


Blame It On the Damned Castiel

by Ace_Of_Spades_2014



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Spades_2014/pseuds/Ace_Of_Spades_2014
Summary: This is Dean's point of view concerning Season 4, episode 1 "Lazarus Rising".





	Blame It On the Damned Castiel

I do not own Supernatural

 

This is Dean’s point of view of Season 4.1, upon meeting Cas for the first time. I do not personally think that what occurs in this story is Truth per se, but I do think it might be how Dean processed some things. It does contain any sort of romance or hint of romance between Cas and Dean, because I also believe that as strong as a bond that they end up with, Dean truly did not like Cas until Cas told him he wasn’t a hammer. Also, I like thinking their relationship (at least on Dean’s part) moved from enemy, to barely tolerable, to best friend, to love, like all the best relationships develop. 

 

**********

“Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind.”

Bobby stared at him with that look that only Bobby was capable of. It was that mixture of a third irritated, a third amused, and a third exasperated, and was usually only reserved for when Dean did or said something. Bashfully, Dean looked away to the front of the barn, terrified of what might be coming their way.

What did appear through the barn’s door was almost anti-climatic. What Dean had imagined as a badass mother-f***** turned out to be some accountant with a lameass trenchcoast, messed up sex hair, and too big blue eyes to reasonably belong to anyone older than eight. Still, appearances could be deceiving, and Dean wasn’t going to take the chance of letting his guard down. This was, after all, the guy that had pulled him out of Hell, destroyed his grave site, practically burst the insides of his brain at the corner store and motel, and burned Pamela’s eyes out. This guy, no matter how...adorable?...he was, was not to be taken lightly.

Between the lighting show and unlogical sparks, Dean and Bobby shot with everything they had. Nothing worked. 

“Who are you?”  
“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The stranger’s voice was deep, an ancient rumble in his throat that set Dean’s nerves on end. In fact, that voice did something to the hunter that he was sure was some sort of supernatural inclination on the stranger’s part, and Dean immediately hated him for it. Dean prided himself on his instincts, and his instincts told him very clearly that this strangely dressed and sex-in-the-air voiced man was nothing but raging trouble. 

“Yea, thanks for that.”

Dean plunged the demon knife straight into the stranger’s heart, striking deep. All he got for his trouble was a smirk and an amused, challenging stare. Bobby, bless his soul, tried to step in, put off guard by the stranger’s ability to withstand a demon’s blade. Unfortunately, the the older hunter was no match for the stranger either and with two fingers to the forehead, Bobby was unconscious on the floor. 

Panic consumed Dean as he hurriedly knelt beside the older hunter, checking to make sure he was alive. After he had confirmed Bobby was alive and well, just unconscious, the demonic stranger waiting off to the side reassured in monotone. Then, without waiting a beat...

“We need to talk Dean….Alone.”

Yea right, Dean thought furiously. It wasn’t like he had a choice. “Who are you?” He demanded, refusing to allow the conversation be led by him. It was one thing to be against another nasty, but he would never allow that nasty to think they had them that terrified. 

“Castiel.”

“Yea I figured that much,” he practically growled, getting up from his knees to stand at his full height, at least an inch taller than the stranger. Angry and resentful, Dean stood his ground against the stranger despite his terror. He had never met a demon like this one and it always scared him to meet something he didn’t know how to defeat. Who wouldn’t be? But demons like this could sense fear, and Dean would be damned if he allowed his fear to get the best of him. This demon, or whatever hellish creature he was would pay for what he had done.“I mean what are you?”

“I am an Angel of the Lord.”

Lies. That was Dean’s first reaction. With all the shit in their life there was no way there were angels out there. And they certainly didn’t look look this dick. “Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing.”

“This is your problem Dean. You have no faith.” He sounded disappointed, almost resigned, but it was only a moment. The next thing Dean knew there were shadows on the walls of the barn. They were mere shadows, but they were frightening and magnificent all the same. 

Dean furiously pushed aside the awe, tried to deny the fear. “Some angel you are,” he spat. He listed off the so called angel’s wrongs, watching carefully for Castiel’s reactions. The thing was, though, as good as Dean was at being able to read people, demons, and monsters, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was he was seeing on the guy’s face. Was that shame? Or regret? Or patience? Neutrality? Boredom? Insincere emotions? 

At one point the stranger bit his lower lip, causing Dean to almost pause in his accusations. Nothing this powerful and dickish should have the ability to look so innocent.

“There are people. Special people, who are able to see my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. Obviously I was wrong.”

This time Dean was pretty sure at being able to identify the emotion being expressed, but it made no sense. The stranger almost sounded...sad. Miserable, actually. Like it was a huge disappointment that Dean didn’t have the ability to see his true visage.

But no, Dean mentally shook the thoughts aside. He refused to care what was going on in the stranger’s head.

“What visage are you in now? Holy tax accountant?”

Then there was a spiel about how the man being possessed was a devout man and had actually prayed for this to happen to him. Dean wasn’t buying it for one second. Possession was possession no matter how you spun it.

“So who are you really?”

“I told you.”

“Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell.” Because that was another issue Dean was having with this. It wasn’t the only issue, but it was certainly a major one. No angel in their right mind would have rescued Dean from Hell, not after he had done, not after the souls he had….

“Good things do happen.”

“Not in my experience.” He wanted out of this conversation, but mostly he wanted to know how to get rid of this guy. That desire only increased as the stranger moved forward, getting too close for comfort. 

Almost nose to nose, deep blue eyes staring up at him with an intensity Dean wasn’t used to seeing. “What’s the matter?” He tilted his head. (and Dean refused to think of that action as adorable, because obviously this “angel” was adorable. He was a dick). And Dean absolutely refused to think that it was pity he was witnessing in the stranger’s gaze, or that the compassion trying to be conveyed was sincere. It was a manipulation, that’s what Dean had to keep telling himself. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

Rage boiled inside the hell-driven hunter. How dare this being, certainly no angel, was going to look at him and say such things with such false sincerity. 

Resigned to the hunter’s anger, Castiel backed away slightly. He lost his intensity directed at Dean and instead took that intensity to a sacred mission statement. “Because God commanded it. He has work for you.”

That was the end for Dean. Hell all over again. 

Blame it on the damned Castiel. 


End file.
